The Imbeciles

Jane loved the Imbeciles. She went to all of their shows on the East
Coast, lavishing attention and screams on them, along with her body
when she got the chance. Tonight she was super excited, because the
Imbeciles were playing a show at the Klondike, a local bar that had a
small dance floor and really good micro brew. Kate, her roommate, had
just scored an eight ball of cocaine for the occasion, and between
trips to the bathroom to fix her hair and take toots form the mirror by
the sink, Jane was in a flutter to find something cool and sexy to
wear. She rifled through her closet, hurling clothes upon the bed,
searching for just the right outfit. Torn jeans, and Uncle Tupelo
T-shirt, and a Banana Republic flannel would fit the bill nicely. Her
last addition to her wardrobe was her tried and true pair of black
Chuck Taylor's. Dressed and ready for action, Jane and Kate hit the
door. They had the feeling of elation that only a few lines of
Mid-grade coke and being 21 and single can give a young lady. Kate had
opted for something a little more revealing than Jane. She was wearing
a Catholic School girl outfit, complete with knee-high white socks,
plaid skirt, and pigtails. Jane couldn't help but be slightly envious
of Kate. Kate was six feet tall, had lustrous red hair, and a figure to
die for. Jane was more of your run of the mill punk rock chick; hair
dyed blue, 5'2", and worn out shoes. Jane put that shit out of her mind
tonight though, because tonight was the night that she was going to
really turn Christopher Shittounge's head. Christopher Shittounge was
the lead singer for the Imbeciles, and had never given Jane so much as
a sideways glance. Sure, Jane had had sex with Asscrack, the guitarist,
and Blowhard, the drummer, but Christopher Shittounge had always been
out of reach. Jane and Kate reached the door to the venue, and broke
out their I.D.'s. It was nice being twenty-one and not having to
produce fake identification. Jane had been busted in D.C. at the 9:30
club for not having anything besides a fake college I.D. that had been
manufactured poorly by Zack Swanson. Zack was a geeky student at State
College that had been in Jane's freshman English class, and lusted for
her uncontrollably. Jane had gotten Zack high on Thai Stick one night,
felt him up, and Zack BELONGED to her thereafter. Now that Jane was
twenty-one, she had no use for skinny little zit faced boys like Zack.
She was a REAL woman now, and had her sights set much higher. Jane and
Kate entered the Klondike, and immediately went to the bar. Two pints
of Guiness, and a stroll through the joint were in order. Kate was
really shaking her ass tonight for all the young brutes in the bar, and
it was making Jane a bit angry and envious. She couldn't compare to
Kate when it came to looks, but she could sure as hell measure up when
it came to excitement. Snatching Kate's purse and going to the
bathroom, Jane found the baggie of coke hidden in an inner fold, and
broke it out. After a long snort, Jane was ready for action. She
clumsily put the coke back in the purse and headed for the bar again.
Old posters and bills of bands that had played the Klondike over the
years adorned the walls of the sultry little brew pub. Pavement, Guided
by Voices, Sonic Youth, Nirvana, The Germs, Minor Threat, and My Bloody
Valentine lined the nicotine stained walls of the Klondike, along with
advertisements for Newcastle Brown Ale, Guiness, and the Klondike's
specialty, Thirteen Rebel's beer. The Klondike constantly smelled of
stale beer and cigarette smoke, but it was the only REAL punk rock
joint in town. A few cracked and broken tables and an old foosball
machine rounded out the rest of the d?cor, but all this finery just
enhanced the effect that this was the place where Jane was going to win
the heart of her idol, Christopher Shittounge. Jane scanned the crowded
bar for signs of the band, and just as she was getting discouraged, the
back door opened, and the Imbeciles strolled in. Jane immediately
started getting wet with excitement when she saw Christopher dressed in
his black leathers, worn cowboy hat, and Corrosion of Conformity
t-shirt. Jane slyly sidled up beside Christopher, and said hi. She
could taste the bitter gall in her mouth caused by the beer and coke,
along with the nervousness of anticipation. Christopher only nodded his
eyebrow pierced head at her for a moment and then went straight to the
bar. Kate was there, waiting expectantly for Christopher to arrive.
Putting an arm around Christopher's neck, she rubbed her nubile breasts
against his chiseled pectoral muscles and breathed something in his
ear. Jane saw all this transpire, and started turning fifty shades of
red. Christopher had his hand on Kate's ass now, and was ordering a
Miller High Life from the barkeep. This was too much for Jane, and she
hurried outside for a cigarette and a breath of fresh air. Extracting
the crumpled pack of Camel Filters from her torn and dirty jeans, she
sat down on the curb and lit up. Several of the patrons of the bar were
gathered outside; hippies smoking Marijuana and drinking expensive
beer, straight edgers and punks roughhousing and chatting about the
upcoming show. Zack Swanson was waiting timidly outside the bar, too
afraid to enter and get a beer, when Jane walked out. He could tell
that something was upsetting Jane, so he carefully walked up to her and
said hi. Jane said, "Sit down, man, you're making me nervous." "You
looked upset, and I just wanted to know if there was anything that I
could do." "Nada. I'm just fucking pissed at my whore of a roommate,
Kate." "Why? You're so much more beautiful than she is anyway," said
Zack. "Thanks, Zack. You're too kind. What are you doing here tonight?
I thought you would be home studying for finals or something." "Finals
aren't for another two months, Jane. Besides, I don't get out enough
these days." "Yeah, whatever" said Jane. That's when the trouble showed
up. The Skins. Neo fucking Nazis all geared up in their jackboots and
trench coats, and high on Crystal Meth. Jane hated those pricks almost
as much as they hated everyone who was slightly different than them.
Blade, their leader, strolled arrogantly with his crew up to the front
door, a few feet from Jane and Zack, and withdrew his wallet to pay the
cover charge. Winslow, the huge black doorman and bouncer was not about
to let them pass the threshold of HIS club tonight. "No dice, Blade.
You're not welcome here anymore. Take your Nazi punk ass and your
little fucking cronies and split before I crack your skulls. The last
time you were here we had to spend about two thousand dollars
remodeling the bar area, and we're not up for that shit anymore." "Fuck
you, Winslow, you fucking Kaffir. We'll see who comes out on top
tonight you fucking Blue gum!" Blade angrily gave Winslow the finger
and strutted back across the parking lot, followed by his mob of irate
and obnoxious underlings. Before he went though, he had to get a stab
in at Jane, so he spat a huge honking ball of snot at her and Zack.
Jane immediately jumped to her feet and hurled her empty beer bottle at
Blade and his posse. "Sieg heil, BITCH" retorted Blade as he deflected
the beer bottle that was speeding towards his closely shaven skull.
"Nazi punks, FUCK OFF" screamed Jane as she started to head back into
the bar to get another beer. Zack followed Jane into the bar as well,
planning to just ride on her coattails and try and look inconspicuous.
After the sound check, Christopher Shittounge stripped to the waist and
started guzzling Miller High Life, spewing it out onto the expectant
crowd. Asscrack, the guitarist, was decked out in a Ramones t-shirt,
camo shorts, and a Boston Red Sox hat. He started running through tight
ass chord progressions on his Gibson SG and cranked his Marshall Full
Stack almost up to full volume. Blowhard, the drummer, stripped to
nothing but his birthday suit behind his Tama Rock Stars, and started
pounding away like a possessed monkey. Noname, the bass player, was
dressed in a raincoat and a g-string, and was flailing away on his
Fender Jazz Bass. His playing was so loud that it made the floorboards
shake with delight. Jane was up in front, in the soon-to-be mosh pit,
screaming obscenities at Christopher with all the ecstasy of a
twenty-one year old banshee in heat. Jane started to push her fellow
mosh mates from side to side, trying to get the party started right.
Out of the jumble of noise "Anarchy in the U.K." began to be
decipherable, and they ran through that old cover like a mongoose on
crack. Song after song, from covers to creations, the Imbeciles rocked
the house. Sated with his beerlust, Christopher started swinging on the
rafters and howling like a werewolf. The mosh pit was in full force,
and Jane had to be picked up several times by sympathetic hell raisers,
only to get knocked down again and kicked around some more. Jane was
having an awesome time, and then the Imbeciles lit into a version of
"Janie Jones" that would have made the Clash green with envy. This was
Jane's favorite number, and screaming with delight, she jumped onstage
and started dancing with all her might to the beat. She had never felt
this good before, and Christopher seemed to be really digging her to
boot. At the set break, Christopher stumbled up to the bar to order
another brew. He was drenched in sweat, and now stripped down to
nothing but his tiger striped bikini underwear. He let out vociferous
catcalls and loud howls, and grabbed Jane by the arm and kissed her
dead on the mouth. Kate, who had been standing by trying to look sexy
and uninterested at the same time, walked up to Christopher and said,
"Hey baby, you like my little skirt?" When she said this, she
immediately flipped up the back of her skirt and gave Christopher a
good look at her pretty pink panties. Transfixed by this show of
sluttery, Christopher let go of Jane's arm, and stalked up to Kate,
grabbing her breast and ass with both hands. He then began to kiss her
neck ravenously, drenching her with his beer scented man smell. At this
point Jane had had all she could stand. The beer and coke (which she
was beginning to come down from), coupled with Kate's obvious disregard
for her emotions and the earlier encounter she'd had with the Skinheads
made something snap in her. She grabbed Christopher's empty High Life
bottle, strode right up to Kate, and smashed it right the fuck over her
head. Then she let fly with a right hook and left jab, breaking Kate's
nose and sending her sprawling against the wall. Then, Christopher
slapped Jane to the ground, leaving a huge purple and red mark on her
face, and sending her right contact lens flying through the bar to god
knows where. Just then, the front door to the bar flew open and Blade
and about twenty skins came crashing in, toting pails of dog shit and
flinging the fecal matter everywhere throughout the establishment.
General chaos ensued then, and Winslow the bouncer started cracking
skinhead skulls with a Louisville Slugger aluminum bat from behind the
bar. That's when Jane blacked out. Jane came to the next morning, lying
in bed with a terrific headache, and the shape of a man lying next to
her. Rolling him over, she saw that it was indeed Zack Swanson. He was
naked from the waist down, and she could tell by the pain in her crotch
that they had had sex. Jane cupped her head in her hands, and tried to
recall what exactly had happened the night before. She could remember
nothing after Christopher Shittounge had slapped her to the ground, and
she tried in vain to get her vision to focus enough to look in the
mirror that was opposite her bed. She could make out her face and
tangled mess of hair, but there all resemblance to her former self
ended. The details of her frame were as blurry as her memories of the
night before. She was too tired and sick to care though, and Zack did
look kind of cute all curled up beside her. What the hell, she asked
herself, and she laid back down, snuggled up to Zack, and went back to
sleep.